


whispers quiet

by elle_stone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-02
Updated: 2012-05-02
Packaged: 2017-11-04 17:37:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/396423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elle_stone/pseuds/elle_stone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus can't appreciate what he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	whispers quiet

**Author's Note:**

> Written in October 2007 for prompt number one, calendar, at the barefootboys community on livejournal. This story is an AU in which Peter, instead of Sirius, was sent to Azkaban for James and Lily's deaths.

Even after all of these years, school is the same: essays to grade instead of write, dustings of chalk on his fingers over the stains of ink, distractions in the late evening as Sirius walks through his fireplace, takes the quill from his fingers, takes his fingers in his fingers.

In the morning, he wakes up with the sun slanting through the same window the moon’s ray trickled past the night before. He expects, halfheartedly even in his drowsiness, a body next to his. Or maybe Sirius, instead, standing half-dressed by the door, school tie around his neck and shirt still half-unbuttoned and hair uncombed, falling into his eyes. And oh, when he realizes this is not be, how old he feels.

His calendar says September, but it is October—a Monday, and the leaves outside brilliant red and burnt orange. If Sirius were here, and if they were younger, and if the past was erased, they would go outside and fall into great piles of them, and kiss with the crackling edges of the leaves in their hair.

He pushes the next essay back. A general shout of enthusiasm follows, but he smiles because he’s doing it for himself.

“So old, Sirius,” he whispers, later, midnight later and the castle quiet and gaping in secrecy around them.

“You have everything in the world. Why must you complain so? My silly Moony.”

Whispers quiet and soft against his hair.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?”

Isn’t it?

He feels a sudden chill, wraps himself closer in the tangle they have formed of themselves.

“If they were alive—if the war—if Peter—if—”

On Wednesday, he turns the calendar page. Not that it matters. It’s over ten years old.

When he can’t stand his room anymore he goes to the office, where Sirius is waiting, where Sirius has broken in.

“I have a question, Professor,” he says. “A question of forgiveness.”

Remus isn’t sure if he is the one forgiving, or being forgiven, but he only says, “Yes. An excellent question” and takes Sirius in his arms again.


End file.
